For one year from today, Incheon, the city west of Seoul known for its airport and seaport, will be the world’s capital of books. 

It may sound like one of those creative titles that cities proclaim themselves to be, but the World Book Capital is an official title endowed by UNESCO to a city selected through a review. The city had failed in its two previous attempts.

The U.N. body explained on its website that the designation includes “no financial prize, but an exclusively symbolic acknowledgement of the best program dedicated to books and reading.”

So, Korea’s very own Incheon has been recognized for its commitment to promoting books and reading. That should be something to celebrate. Yet the mood here, at least in the local media circle, is somewhat to the contrary.

Many question why Incheon was chosen, and not Seoul or Paju Bookcity, north of Seoul, which is home to a cluster of some 250 publishing houses.

Skepticism seems to prevail as to whether Incheon will be able to live up to the honor.

To be honest, I was among the skeptical. My initial doubts had nothing to do with Incheon’s qualification or capability to pull off the yearlong programs that the city had pledged in its application to UNESCO. Weighing heavily on my mind was the grave sense of crisis that has been gripping Korea’s book scene.

Despite boasting the world’s highest level of adult literacy ― about 98 percent of Koreans aged 15 or older can read and write ― the country’s reading culture has been in the doldrums.

Book consumption is at a 10-year low, with an average adult reading 9.2 books in an entire year. Not surprisingly, bookshops are disappearing at an accelerating rate nationwide.

For the past five months, no Korean literary work has made it to the list of 20 bestsellers on Yes24, the country’s largest online bookstore. Kyobo Bookstore, the largest physical bookshop in Seoul that holds a symbolic place in the local publishing sector, recently got rid of its poetry section to make room for more couches.

Some say the crisis is universal in the digital age. Others point to a more local cause: Academic and professional stress in Korea’s hyper-competitive society is prompting people to seek out light and easily digestible entertainment in their free time. In other words, people are choosing movies over books.

I first learned about Incheon’s designation about a month ago when I received an invitation to a press conference where the mayor, Yoo Jeong-bok, was to brief journalists on the city’s plans for the book-capital year. As I did my research prior to the press event, I learned about difficulties the city was having in its preparation.

Incheon, grappling with mounting debts, has only managed to secure less than one quarter of the funds it had initially hoped for. The central government, also on a tight budget due to increased welfare expenditure, is not pledging enough support either. The private sector, preoccupied with survival in a bleak market, shows little enthusiasm.

In many ways, Incheon’s bid for a book culture revival reminded me of the state of newspapers, which are also considered a dying breed in this era of digital information overload.

During the press conference on April 7 in Seoul, Incheon Mayor Yoo made some remarks that I truly hope were more than just defensive rhetoric.

“Incheon’s publishing infrastructure is not to be compared to that of Seoul or Paju. What matters here is not the disparity. It is about how we intend to develop it from now on.”

“I see this not as a one-year project, but a policy that I need to carry on in the longer term,” he said.

There may be plenty of reasons to be cynical. But against all odds, I support Incheon.

After all, the UNESCO World Book Capital program didn’t start as a recognition of a city’s status or a show of its grand vision in the international publishing world. It was inspired by a lovely traditional custom in Catalonia, Spain, in which books were exchanged between loved ones on St. George’s Day, which is analogous to Valentine’s Day.

A grand vision, big budgets and pan-governmental backing may be ideal, but when they all seem out of reach, it’s still important that we try to encourage reading as a hobby that can be shared with other people.

Small steps can lead to big changes. It is only those who hold onto hope against all odds who make the small step. 

By Lee Sun-young

Lee Sun-young is the culture desk editor of The Korea Herald. She can be reached at milaya@heraldcorp.com. ― Ed.